My Recollection to No One
by Neversaid-I-Madesense
Summary: Immortality isn't as great as it's made out to be. After awhile, you remember. Everything.


**A/N:** This was inspired by both Claire Bennet of _Heroes_ and **Babog**'s creepily awesome fic, _What We Never Knew About JD_.

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He had lost them all insanely fast.

It wasn't until long after they had all died, one right after the other, that JD realized he couldn't age. He could never die. His heart pulsed forevermore but he was already dead anyway. He'd never see any of them ever again.

The Janitor had been the first one to go.

It had just been a normal day. There had been no ominous warnings in the form of storm clouds; no deep knot in anyone's gut that told them something was incredibly wrong with that particular day.

The Janitor was tinkering with his little contraptions, as usual. He was proud of this one-- a toothbrush that could clean your teeth to spotless perfection while having a sharp end that could poke someone's eye out too, in the case of a burglar trying to steal both your virtue and toiletries.

He never finished it, not completely. It was hard to when he tripped and landed straight on the knife end, and it pierced his heart.

It had not even been two weeks afterwards that Elliot died, as well. The taxicab driver was just trying to do his job, really. Alcohol had never affected his working skills before. He didn't realize he wasn't stopping until he drove straight onto the sidewalk and into his blonde would-be customer.

Then Carla became ill with polio.

That was when JD truly began to worry.

At her funeral, Kelso had a heartattack. Ted finally offed himself via Sacred Heart's roof just days after.

The Todd got AIDS. JD knew he should have seen that one coming.

He also supposed Turk's death was theatrical, in a way. He tried to save the life of one of his fellow hostages when they were stricken with a severe asthma attack from the sheer panic and stress of the situation.  
He was shot in the head by one of the thugs holding them hostage in response.

The 7-Eleven company dedicated a plaque to him on the very wall he had died pressed up against like a caged animal.

That was when JD first began to feel the threads of his sanity unravel, and with a shudder of horror, he realized there were only two whose turn it could be next:  
Him... or Dr. Cox.

"Take me instead!" He'd hollered to the skies. "For God's sake-- or whoever the hell is screwing me over-- the man has a _son_!"  
There had been no response, of course there wasn't, and maybe it had just been his mind fucking with him, but he could have sworn he'd heard faint laughter on the wispy spring breeze.

Liver failure.

As JD places flowers on Dr. Cox's tombstone before moving on to Elliot's, he guesses he should have seen it coming too.

He was the last one. Holy shit, it barely took five months for all of them to die...

"...and you know _WHAT_?!" He howls. "I sat there, I just _SAT_ there! Right _THERE_! I sat down on the ground and waited to die! I sat there for ten years! Right out in the middle of nowhere, it took hours for me to drive there, and I still don't know where it was...!" He makes a choking noise and shivers, looking anywhere-- anywhere-- but the half-faded away name carved onto the tombstone: **PERCIVAL ULLYSES COX.**

He swallows and continues his recollection to no one, "I never slept, I never ate, I never drank. I never changed. When that damn kid found me and shook me 'til I woke up... but I never fell asleep... I didn't remember at first, but it came back, oh so slowly, so painfully..." He shakes his head but it doesn't relieve him of the sudden migraine pounding into his head.

It was now the year 2113. The kid was dead by now, and JD couldn't recall his name for the life of him. It didn't really matter anymore. "I looked exactly the same as I did when I first flopped down onto that damn yellowed grass, which wasn't too great," he laughs, but it hurts. "I went back there, y'know, to that huge-ass grass field, about three years ago, I'm not sure, don't really keep track of the time that well these days," he takes a breath, and it shakes his ribcage. "It wasn't too far out from where we worked now that I think about it." He pauses. "It's a fucking mall now."

He suddenly fixes the tombstone with a searing stare, "Ya know, Per-Per," Even now, the nickname leaves tingles on his tongue, as if he just shouldn't be uttering it, "I never did get why you hated me so much. I showed you nothing but kindness, friendliness and support. But you always kept me at arm's length. The whole 'I'm bulletproof and I have no friends to pull me down' thing was cute for a while, really it was. But now it just pisses me off."

His gaze drifts over all the tombstones that marked no resting places now-- he's long since moved them and placed them all side-by-side, hidden in the darkest shaded part of his wide treed backyard. His house was large and the very definition of futere-esque and high-tech, or at least it would have been in his time. There were no neighbors for miles.

He'd done something spectacular to earn the money to afford such a home, he knew, but he couldn't remember what it was.

"I could never make you guys happy. I loved you fuckers to death and I still do, but damn if you weren't hard to please." He feels it now. His sanity wavering. It was a common thing, now. "Immortality isn't as great as it's made out to be," he chuckles hoarsely at last. "You see people throwing their necks out to vampires in movies just so they can stay eternally young forever, but I bet they're feelin' pretty stupid now, aren't they?" He sighs. "After awhile you can't help but begin to remember everything you've ever done that you regret."

He stands. He'd been sitting there before the tombstones for days, at least, spewing every detail he could recollect to the lifeless rocks. It had rained but he was dry now. "Guess I'm going inside now." He grins crookedly at the stones. "See ya next time I need a pick-me-up when I start to have a mental-breakdown. You know you love it, admit it, you silly, proud fools!" And he laughs again, but it is not lighthearted or childish like it had been so long ago. It was high-pitched and strange.

As he walks inside his oh-so-shiny house he picks up his car keys. "Shit, I think I need to take a drive. Get my mind off things." He had a Toyata Glider 2000. It was no hovercar, but god damn it, it was good enough. "Or maybe I just need to beat the shit out of something. Where the hell is Britney Spears when you need the bitch? Oh, wait, she's dead. Fine, guess I'll settle for Paris Hilton's great-great-great-whatever-the-hell grandson. Now HIM. HE is a douchebag! He called Tiffany Swift a lousy singer and a whore! If anyone deserved a kick in the ass it's him, all right!" He rolls his eyes dramatically. "Not all of us can be as wonderful as you, Pierre!"

He glides out of his garage and is gone.

_Mount Everest-- or what's left of it since WWIII-- sounds like a good place to hide the body, no one would ever suspect it... Hey, maybe I'll fall and freeze into a popsicle? That would definitely solve all my problems... ha, Vanilla-Popsicle... you'd love that, Turk..._

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**A/N:** Why did I write this? Because I know you all want to hear the partially-insane babbles of an immortal John Dorian.  
...Nah. Actually, because I wanted to write something no one has quite seen before. Does it make me look twisted if I tell you I was grinning the whole time while typing this? I don't know why he's immortal, I just thought it would be an interesting concept to explore.  
Reviews are love. :)


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